


A Poem By Sister Michael

by GlitterNyappyGacktRose



Series: Poems by The Derry Girls (And Jenny Joyce) [7]
Category: Derry Girls (TV)
Genre: Gen, Northern Ireland, Northern Irish Troubles, Poetry, The Troubles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25148068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitterNyappyGacktRose/pseuds/GlitterNyappyGacktRose
Summary: Sister Michael overheard Ms De Brun reading the student’s poems and rolled her eyes to heaven. Now, she’s praying the rosary, but finds her mind wandering as she composes her own poem, reflecting on all the events of the series Derry Girls. However, being in a church, she's joined by an unwelcome guest...
Series: Poems by The Derry Girls (And Jenny Joyce) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788214
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	A Poem By Sister Michael

I’ve been stuck teaching brats

In this school through the ages.

They say they have rights

But they belong in cages.

Christ! Come save me!

Come take me away!

What must I do?

Kneel here and pray?

Their arrogant expressions,

They make me feel sick.

They’re as bad as the prods-

Not that they should mix!!!

I’m just fucking done here,

I really don’t care.

Oh, is it a sin

To swear mid prayer?

Forgive me, Lord Jesus:

I’ve done something bad.

But the audacity of these girls

Is driving me mad!

It’s hardly your fault, Lord.

But you gave them a voice.

You must have your reasons.

But why give them a choice

To talk back and give cheek?

Michelle Mallon, Jenny Joyce-

You gave them life

How can I rejoice

When every year, they perform,

They dance and they sing?

Lord, leave it to professionals,

Not these wretched things!

Their eyes fill with hope,

As I watch, all weary.

They dream of success, Lord,

But coming from Derry

What hope do they have,

When all hope is lost?

They focus on dreams

And at such a high cost.

Lord, show them the world

Through my eyes for a day.

They’d give up on dreams

And keep hope at bay.

But – oh Christ! It’s Peter,

Him and his hair.

Now nothing can save me,

Not even prayer!

Oh Christ, you inspire

In a world that’s so cruel.

But why give inspiration

To this insufferable fool?

I don’t ask for much, Lord,

But do me a favour

And tell this clown, Peter

That he is no saviour.

That this unending feud

Up North and in Derry

Is not so easily

Solved and is very

Complicated. Much too much

To solve in a day

Of forced activities.

And to you Lord I pray

For some kind of solution

And a moment of peace.

A break from the bombs

And for the bullets to cease.

But what can I do, Lord?

With Sister Declan deceased,

An army of brats

And a fool of a priest?


End file.
